Red Moon
by Amirrel
Summary: Summary is in the story. Warning: Slash fic, RedxFletcher Retcher xD male pairing. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Red Moon**

**Authoress**: Amirrel

**Fandom**: Half-Moon Investigations, by Eoin Colfer

**Rating**: T

**Pairing**: Red Sharkey x Fletcher Moon (Retcher xD)

**Summary**: I thought we were just, you know, fooling around, playing games on each other, being boys and all. But somehow, this ache in my chest won't go away every time I see him. Please let this just be the complications that will fade after puberty...

**A/N**: This does not exactly follow the book's storyline, but I'll keep to the where-it-happens and when-it-happens.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Half-Moon Investigations. It belongs to the genius mind of Eoin Colfer, Puffin Books etc.

**Warning:** Boy x Boy pairing, if you don't like it, leave it.

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Fletcher is my name, Fletcher Moon. I'm a private-eye investigator, and I have the badge to prove it. My least-favorite people are criminals, and there happens to be a criminal family living in this county.

But one day, my view on one Sharkey, Red Sharkey, just changed quite drastically on that day...

On the day I went to meet up with my paying customer, April Devereux and her group of pink posses, I wrote it all down in my computer diary...

**Sports Field**

April and I have arranged to meet at the sports field. I wasn't looking forward to it. Truth be told, the interview with April and co. cut my patience-line to nothing but a one centimeter stub. That was until May Devereux decided to bring Red Sharkey into the meeting.

He came at us, shirtless, a hurling bat in one hand. I stared at the muscles on that tall, lean body, so well-defined, his fierce expression and he sprinted across the field. I realized I had been staring and shook my head to clear the sudden strange thoughts my brain had generated.

As usual, we ended up exchanging snares and glares, he pinned my throat with his bat and I felt the nails that formed his name scrape my chin. What I saw in those eyes, I don't think I'll ever forget.

Emotions flicked across Red's brow, as though his brain was channel-hopping. He went through amazement, fury and sadness among others, eventually settling on a blank expression. But I know I had seen something more in those eyes, something I couldn't quite put my finger on yet...

Oh wow, Red Sharkey claims to be an innocent person, if he's so innocent he should return my shield then and we can close the book. Apparently Red's still trying to convince me that he didn't take my shield, judging by the way he just pulled me up to my tippy-toes with my collar.

I'm doomed.

Papa Sharkey my saviour, if only your BMW wasn't giving my eyes a whole new brightness to endure, I could kiss you if Red could just let go of my shirt.

Actually, I'd very much prefer to kiss Red—

_--snap out of it Half-Moon. You have a whole party of cute girls in pink surrounding you and all you can think about is kissing Red __Sharkey? While he's gripping your shirt in a vise?_

[Backspace]

Actually, I'd very much prefer to kick Red Sharkey's balls and flee for my life before Papa Sharkey comes charging at me like a bull. A vivid image forms in my head of myself in an ant costume and Papa Sharkey with horns on his head.

Well, I decided to stay put anyway, and whad'ya know, Red finally put me down and went away with his dad to some dark and dangerous den that they call Home.

Gee, thanks a lot for the help, Mr. Devereux.

Back home, while I was working in my office, I spotted an intruder in front of my house. Could it be someone with info come to help me with the case? Fat chance of any of that happening, what with my name being on everyone's Most Annoying list.

No matter, the shadow down there seems to want to talk to me, I head out by the garage instead to catch who it is trying to get some time with me. It turns out that this guy knew I would be trying to catch him off guard first. So when my head poked its way out of shelter, the bat that looked strangely familiar came down on my head and arm.

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Read & Review!

Like it, hate it, let me know so that I know whether to continue this or not.

Love you all for reading anyway! 3


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!! *hugs everyone* I really felt so happy when I read them! I just couldn't stop squealing with joy!

Sorry for the really late update. My C drive got wiped because it wasn't working properly, yes, that meant all my fanfiction works that I hid in there got wiped too T_T…but rewriting everything made me rethink about my plot over a couple of times…

Enjoy!

P/s: Hint, Red Moon is also a literal translation here…xD

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Maybe it's karma? No, that can't be it. I know I'm an annoying prick to the neighbourhood, but being a small-scale PI is like doing community service. Guess the community is not happy with the service.

Could it be a sign of my life to come if I continue on this path towards my career? Nah, I'm not having an epiphany, am I?

So why, just please tell me _why_ did I awake in a hospital room with no one by my side and a tardy homophobe named Doctor Brendan giving me the "little tyke, hehehe" treatment?

"Did you ever see those movies where the bad guys kick the devil out of the good guy?" he asked.

"Yes." I replied.

"Well, that's what happened to you." He told me with an air about him that almost seemed jovial about the fact that I'm devil-free…

I will not kill. Killing people gives bad karma. I will not kill. But I'm under eighteen…

Deep breaths, Fletcher… Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…

It looks like Brendan enjoys flaunting the fact that he's a doctor slash paediatrician slash smarty-ass. It's getting annoying.

"The point is," continued Doctor I-Love-Flasing-My-Medical-Degree-At-Kids, "that those movie guys aren't really hitting each other. In actuality."

"You don't say…"

"No, really, I'm serious, it's all pretend. Human beings aren't built to take that kind of punishment."

That's wonderful news, doctor, I hope to see you soon under a new gravestone, rightfully punished, of course. I wished that day would come sooner when he said I looked like a freaking troll.

"Just doing my job!" he said gallantly. Afterwards, he left to fetch my family. At last, some more sympathetic company.

Mam, please, stop smothering me. Dad, I don't like that look on your face. Hazel, please do as Mam says and put that tape recorder away, an interview isn't really appropriate right now…

"Is this anything to do with your investigation?" Dad asked me.

"Maybe. I don't know. All I was doing was looking for a keepsake." Please don't say the dreaded words.

"Well, whatever. This investigation is over, as of now." No! "We put up with this detective bit because it was harmless." No, no, no! He's said them! "I won't ban it completely, because I know it's your passion." Oh, thank goodness. "But from now on, all cases go through me. Understood?"

No. If they go through you, it'll be years before I'm allowed to solve any "case". Every case involves risk and risk is my daily bread.

I nodded gently anyway. There was no point arguing while everyone was so emotional. I could present my case at a later date when I'm not sporting a face that would cheer up Quasimodo.

Hazel took something out from her pocket when our parents weren't looking. My notebook. "You left this in the garden."

"Thanks, sis." I said. Best sister I could ask for.

-----

Someone save me, this Doctor is driving me up the wall. "Want a lolly?"

No, but I want you to get lost. Or just disappear completely from existence.

"No, thank you, you don't by any chance have a dummy?" Trick question. Your worst nightmare. I caught that flinch, dummy.

Yes, yes, the nasal splint. Yes, I know what you mean by 'sleepy potion'. Yes, I would love for you to realign my nose so that it doesn't look as big as yours.

"I'm sure it won't hurt, too much."

Screw you too, old man.


	3. Chapter 3

**Red Moon**

**Chapter 3**

**A/N WARNING: **I wonder if I've mentioned this or if readers have noticed this yet, but to follow the storyline I have to copy a lot of paragraphs from the book, so please forgive me for not using my own original writing form to move the story along…but I will, eventually. Until then, take note that this chapter is very much heavily plagiarised from the book the get the events through…if you want you can just skip this chapter, but then you would miss where I hid all my sarcastic/funny inputs.

And a huge THANK YOU cake for **Seshochan** for a very moving review for me! I'll continue to do my best!

Thank you **Dark's Mistress**, I'll get to that scene in the next chapter xD

**Pokemonsuit**, it's because I've been copying paragraphs from the book…at the same time…yeah, his sarcasm has gotten to me through his writing.

A person has vivid dreams under anaesthetic. My mind replayed the events of the past twenty-four hours in glorious Technicolour and surround sound.

Actually, the past twenty-four hours that involved Red Sharkey in it. Red Sharkey pulling me out by the collar. Red Sharkey's hand groping my ass as he rummaged in my pockets for my detective badge. I swear, I never noticed it when it actually happened but why am I feeling it so strongly now, not to mention my ass really likes the attention. Red Sharkey and his muscles, his broad shoulders, torso, muscular form, that irresistible glare. I felt myself go weak at the knees, feeling light-headed despite all the anaesthetic, feeling my heartbeat flutter…

I could hear crunching noises disturbing my dreams, but I guess the crunching should be my nose being hauled in line. I shouldn't interfere with that, right, since a certain med school dropout is enjoying that.

Time passed and a theory emerged. The sequence of events seemed simple enough: I get hired to investigate the Sharkeys, May tattles to Red, and he does _something_ about it. But attacking me in the middle of the night? I admit, some part of me really hopes it wasn't Red, some aching part of me…

Besides, I don't have proof that it was Red who was my midnight assailant…or do I?

Something clicked inside my head. If it had been Red Sharkey who attacked me, he had probably used the same weapon as he had to threaten me earlier. His hurl embossed with his own name. His own name!

I woke up in the recovery room and immediately started yakking a mile a minute to the nurse about my secret infatuation with a certain tall red-headed boy who might be trying to kill me, but she merely stroked my forehead with a cool hand until I had no choice but to fall asleep again.

I woke up for the second time. Sort of. My head was awake, but my body was pleading for sleep. It's either that or the tent under my gown was no dream.

Great, now I'm having wet dreams, when will the torture end? Until I take him into custody? But apparently a certain member of my body is suggesting Red to take me into his custody…

I ignored it for now, this Red idea (the name thing) needed to be acted on now. Tomorrow would be too late. The proof would be lost in a pool of blood.

What time is it? Night? It was dark in the room but I could see a slit of light under the door and hear the slap of nurses' rubber-soled shoes in the hall.

I sat up in bed. Too quickly. I felt as though my head was balanced like a ball and would plop off if I jiggled too much. I was back in my own hospital room and the nurse had gone. Nobody to lean on.

No Red to lean on… I closed my eyes and tried to shut the thoughts out. Besides, he tried to knock my head off my shoulders.

Taking it slow, I made my way to the bathroom, ignoring the way the walls of my room flexed this way and that due to the anaesthetic.

I stumbled into the bathroom, grabbing onto anything to support myself. "Anything" being the radiator. It could've been hot. I wasn't sure. My fingers were still buzzing from the anaesthetic.

The bathroom was cramped, which suited me just fine. I could lean against a wall and still see myself in the mirror. But would I be able to recognize the remains of once normal features? What if my face stays this way and Red sees me like this?

I try to ignore, or at least push down the panic that wants to overwhelm me. I'm not vain, not at all, but there's nothing wrong with the healthy need to avoid looking like a mutated troll, right? Maybe I should just go back to bed.

Before I could be lulled by this tempting idea, I grabbed the light cord and yanked. After a moment's wincing, I focused.

_Oh dear God! My face! My beautiful, beautiful face!_

It was not a pretty sight. Doctor Blender-brain had been right: ugly was going to be my first, middle and last names for quite some time.

_Okay, not to say my face was beautiful or even handsome originally, but still, I'd go back to being an Average Joe anytime to avoid THIS! Gah!_

In fact, the best-looking feature for me was the nasal splint, a small aluminium V clamped on to my nose. The rest of it looked as though someone had dropped a pound of rare steak on it and it had stuck…

'Focus,' I told myself. _Yeah, 'cause I didn't become a P.E. Investigator for the looks…right?_ Anyway, I had to act now, or the evidence could be lost.

My left arm was bound from elbow to knuckle in a soft cast. I tugged on the Velcro straps with my teeth, all the time arguing with my sensible side. The pressure eased, and my arm seemed to expand like an inflated rubber glove. _Ew…_ I expected some pain but none came. However, beyonf the anaesthetic, I sensed that my body was screaming at me just how stupid this idea was.

What could be stupider than reassuring myself that Red Sharkey's "mark" is on me…

I'm not listening to my hormonal side ever again. I don't have a problem with the calm acceptance of my own sexual preference but does it _have_ to be Red Sharkey?

I slipped off the cast with my good hand. My left arm was even uglier than my face, which was saying something. The single blow had managed to connect with every inch of skin facing the weapon. I forced myself to study the bruising. There were several colours, from sickly yellow to angry red. And running from my wrist to my hand, a deep purple trio of distinct marks. My evidence.

I held my arm to the light. And there in the mirror was my proof. Three letters. R E D. The round-headed tacks on Red Sharkey's hurl had etched their signature into my arm.

I collapsed on the floor. Leaning against the wall I hugged my knees as best I could with my good hand. I didn't want to look at them, but I had to. Finally, my vision blurred with tears that seemed to have made up the decision for me.

I don't want to cry, I've never cried in years. Why am I even crying over a boy I can't date? A criminal.

I tried to distract myself by pulling out what I could remember on bruising. Bruises faded quickly. Sometimes in hours. This purple bruising would quickly soften and spread. I needed to preserve the evidence before it blended with the rest of the tissue damage. There must be a way.

Of course, in a perfect world, I would simply press the call button and tell the nurse that I needed a digital camera immediately. But I knew from experience that adults do not react well to boy detectives.

I've never experimented as a _crying_ boy detective and I do not intend to try.

Anyway, the nurse would more than likely look at me as though I had two heads and one of them was purple. I would be bundled into bed and possibly sedated until the bruising had faded. On top of that, I would be lucky to wake up without a child psychologist in the room.

I slowly got to my feet…

The only option left was to "check myself out". No, I'm not that vain…yet. After a bit of trouble with my alien-feet a part of my brain realized that the anaesthetic still had a grip on my good sense, but the rest of me had evidence to process and was determined to be professional, tears or no tears.

The hallway was clear. I could hear conversation on the wards, but there was nothing but floor tiles between me and the nurses' station. I strolled across confidently, as if I had a medical reason for being there. The station was bordered by a semicircular counter, and behind that a few worn chairs. There was an extension lead on the floor. Plugged into it were a kettle and a photocopier. Lucky me.

I switched on the copier and waited, rubbing my eyes and shuffling impatiently, while it heated up. At last the red light flashed green. I pulled back the lid and plonked my arm on the glass. That really should've hurt, and probably would later, but at that moment I felt no pain.

This was ridiculous. In this age of technology, I was being thwarted by a Stone Age photocopier. Ugh, I can't use these copies. I needed a digital camera. Right now. Maybe it was my imagination but it seemed as though the incriminating bruises were already fading. If only my family were here. Hazel's mobile phone had a built-in camera. But if I had removed my cast in front of my mother to take a photo of a bruise, she would've had a nervous breakdown on the spot.

Pink chick May Devereux had a camera connected to the computer in her Wendy house and I knew where the key to it is. God I hate that place…but the Devereux house was barely a minute from the hospital. Heck, I could just waltz in and snap a few quick shots and nip back to bed before anyone's the wiser.

I made my way down to the reception area. In my semi-anaesthetized condition, also known as mental, I decided it would be a good idea to sing a quiet little song, so as not to appear casual and certainly not up to mischief. I don't know if I can manage with my heart in shreds right now, so I sang like someone wearing headphones. Out of tune, and louder than I intended.

A nurse blocked my path. I was eye level with her rack. Dear Lord those can't be natural. She glared at me the way you might look at something that has crawled from a sewer leaving a trail behind it.

'Excuse me, Tex,' she said, hands on hips. _Well 'Excuse me, Plastic Surgery.'_ 'Would you mind reining in the voice. There are babies being born in this hospital. We wouldn't want the first sound they hear to be your painful howling. There could be lawsuits.' _There should be some against you. That rack would instil unwanted thoughts in any newborn babies. _

'Of course, sister. I'm so sorry. I get carried away sometimes.'

'This could be one of those times if you're not careful. Now, on your way. And keep the noise down, or I may decide to check your temperature and, believe me, you don't want that.' _What're you gonna do? Smother me with your boobs? My temperature would actually drop._

I scurried to a waiting area before my mouth pries itself open and cracks all the obscene jokes it could think of.

Okay, outside, I waltzed right onto someone else's front yard. Big oops. My brain controlled my body like it was drunk and I tittered over to the next house the shaggy old man pointed me to. He's probably burning up the phone lines between here and the police station as soon as I was out the fate. I had minutes before a couple of boys in blue came to drag me back to the hospital.

I hurried next door, trying no to let my head wobble too much, which was quite a feat. The dizziness was worse now and I wanted nothing more than to lie down in the rose garden and have a little rest. Perhaps if I went to sleep here, I would somehow wake up in my own bed.

I would only need two minutes. Two minutes would've been plenty if something hadn't caught my eye. The entire side of May's house was glowing a flickering orange. There was a fire somewhere nearby. I loped around the corner feeling slightly duller than a jelly knife.

I heard the fire before I saw it. Pistol-crack flames and boiling hiss. Black smoke filled the garden, rolling in thick coils from a bonfire near the Wendy house. I staggered closer, trying to see what was being burned. All I could make out was the elbow crook of a sleeve, glinting with golden thread.

I gasped with sudden horrible recollection. May's Irish-dancing costume had gold thread.

_That little prancing idiot could be in the fire, _I thought.

'Fire!' I screamed, and my head nearly exploded. The pain drove me to my knees in a bed of roses. Thorns…

'Fire!' I howled again, and the unlikely combination of pain and anaesthetic shut my entire body down for a few crucial moments.

I awoke to find myself somehow closer to the fire. Alive then, but only barely, judging by the pulpy feel of my skull. I staggered to my feet, working up to a sprint to the Devereux's side door. Some small part of my mind told me to leave her because she's been wanting to get into Red's pants since he glanced at her.

I reached up to check my nasal splint and realized that there was a blackened stick in my hand.

_This is so not good,_ I thought.

That was when two of Lock's finest hurdled the garden wall and buried me deeper than the flower roots. Shit…

**A/N: **Okay, still with me? *hugs for those who are* Okay, the next chapter, I'll try to put at least 50% of my own writing! Of course I would, you all know what's gonna come next and there's the bike scene I have to wing. xD


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